Margaret Atwood (2012)
Genre
Literary Fiction / Mystery
Reading Time
240 min
Key Themes
See below
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On a remote Quebec island, a woman looking for her missing father finds her relationships breaking down and her identity changing as she faces the wild.
The unnamed narrator, a commercial artist, travels from Montreal to a remote island in northern Quebec with her lover, Joe, and their friends, David and Anna. Her father, a botanist and intellectual who lived alone, has gone missing from his cabin on the island. The narrator's brother, who usually visits their father, cannot go, so she investigates. The group takes a seaplane to the isolated lake, where the pilot tells them that the narrator's father's boat is still tied up, meaning he has not left by water. The narrator feels increasingly uneasy and distant from her companions, especially as she thinks about her past and the artificiality of her current life.
Upon arriving at her father's cabin, the narrator finds it mostly as expected, but with some upsetting changes. Her father's large library and scientific equipment are there, but there are also strange, childlike drawings on the walls, including figures with fish-like heads. The group searches the immediate area, including the outhouse and the lake shore, but finds no trace of the father. The narrator remembers her childhood on the island, her mother's presence, and the strict, intellectual environment her father created. The dynamic between Joe, David, and Anna becomes more strained, marked by passive aggression and sexual tension, which further isolates the narrator.
During their stay, the narrator thinks about her past, especially an event involving a drowned man. She tells her companions a made-up story about being married and having a child that died. This is a partial truth hiding a more painful reality. In fact, she had an abortion years ago, a memory she has suppressed and reframed as a stillbirth to cope. This traumatic event is tied to the end of her short marriage and her subsequent emotional numbness. The island's isolation and her search for her father begin to bring these buried memories to the surface, challenging her carefully constructed identity.
The search for the father extends to the lake. Using the father's old boat, they explore the many small islands and coves. The narrator finds more of her father's disturbing drawings, showing figures submerged in water, some with what look like gill-like features or webbed hands. These images connect with her own fragmented memories and anxieties about life and death. The group's interactions become more volatile; David often abuses Anna, and Joe struggles to connect with the narrator, who feels increasingly distant from him and their shared life. The wilderness begins to have a powerful, unsettling effect on her.
While on the lake, the group meets two American tourists who are fishing. David, driven by anti-American feelings and a desire to show dominance, confronts them about their fishing, accusing them of being destructive and disrespectful to the environment. The confrontation is tense and awkward, highlighting the group's own internal conflicts and projections. The narrator watches this interaction with a growing sense of alienation, seeing the artificiality and aggression in human behavior. This encounter further strengthens her feeling that modern civilization, represented by her companions and the Americans, is flawed and disconnected from nature.
Following a hint from her father's drawings, the narrator decides to dive into the lake near a specific rock formation. She believes her father, interested in ancient rock paintings and the area's spiritual meaning, may have left a message there. Underwater, she discovers a series of crude, unsettling drawings etched onto the rock face. These images, more primitive and disturbing than those in the cabin, show human-like figures with animalistic features, some seemingly trapped or drowning. This discovery deeply affects her, changing her view of her father's state of mind and suggesting a deeper, more primal understanding of his disappearance.
During another dive, prompted by the unsettling underwater drawings, the narrator experiences a powerful and disturbing hallucination. She sees what she believes is the body of a drowned infant floating in the lake. This vision is a direct sign of her repressed trauma: the memory of her abortion, which she has long reinterpreted as a stillbirth. The vision shatters her carefully built psychological defenses, forcing her to confront the reality of her past actions and the deep guilt and grief she has carried. This moment is a turning point, beginning her descent into a more primal, unstable state.
The tension among the group reaches a breaking point. After a particularly violent and degrading sexual encounter involving David, Anna, and Joe, which the narrator watches with increasing detachment, she decides she cannot continue with them. She feels a deep disconnect from their human interactions, seeing them as artificial and destructive. David and Anna leave first, their marriage broken. Joe, confused and hurt by the narrator's growing distance and erratic behavior, eventually leaves as well, unable to understand or help her. The narrator is left alone on the island, free to pursue her increasingly primitive quest.
Alone on the island, the narrator begins a radical change. She sheds her clothes, her possessions, and her civilized restraints. She stops speaking, communicating only through primal sounds and gestures. She forages for food, eats raw plants, and lives off the land, trying to reconnect with a more basic, animalistic existence. She believes she is shedding the layers of artificiality and societal conditioning that have separated her from her true self and from nature. This period is marked by intense sensory experiences and a blurring of the lines between human and animal, reality and hallucination.
In her wild state, the narrator experiences powerful visions. She sees her parents not as the intellectual figures she knew, but as primal, animalistic spirits, deeply connected to the wilderness. Her father appears as a nature god, her mother as a guardian spirit. She believes these visions are leading her to a deeper understanding of her own origins and her connection to the earth. She feels she is undergoing a rebirth, shedding her past and becoming a new, more integrated being. This intense spiritual and psychological journey ends with a deep, though unsettling, sense of peace and belonging to the natural world.
Just as the narrator feels she has fully integrated with nature, Joe returns to the island, having been unable to completely abandon her. He finds her naked, silent, and living in a feral state. His presence breaks her primal peace, reminding her of the human world and the limits of civilization. She faces a choice: to fully embrace her animalistic existence and reject humanity, or to try to rejoin society, though on her own terms. Joe's return forces her to acknowledge her humanity and the possibility of a different kind of connection, one that is not purely animalistic.
Confronted by Joe, the narrator slowly begins to re-engage with her human self. While still deeply affected by her wilderness experience, she realizes that complete isolation is not her final path. She recognizes Joe's genuine concern and his willingness to accept her in her changed state. She decides to return with him, not out of submission, but out of a new, more authentic understanding of herself and her relationship with him. The ending is ambiguous but suggests a careful step towards reintegration, carrying the lessons of her primal journey into a more conscious and self-aware existence, potentially allowing for a more genuine connection with another human being.
The Protagonist
From a detached, emotionally numb individual, she descends into a primal, animalistic state, confronting her suppressed trauma and ultimately emerging with a more integrated, authentic sense of self.
The Supporting
He remains relatively static in his personality but demonstrates unwavering, if bewildered, loyalty to the narrator, ultimately offering her a path back to humanity.
The Supporting/Antagonist
He remains static in his aggressive and superficial nature, ultimately contributing to the breakdown of his marriage and the narrator's detachment.
The Supporting
She begins as a submissive wife and gradually becomes more visibly distressed and broken by her husband's abuse, ultimately leaving him.
The Mentioned/Catalyst
His arc is revealed posthumously; he seems to have moved from pure intellect to a spiritual, almost shamanistic connection with nature, prefiguring the narrator's own journey.
The Mentioned/Symbolic
Her influence on the narrator grows posthumously, becoming a guiding spiritual presence during the narrator's transformation.
The main theme is the narrator's search to shed her fragmented, artificial identity and find her true self. Her journey to find her missing father becomes a metaphorical descent into her own mind, forcing her to confront suppressed traumas and societal conditioning. She removes layers of artificiality, from her commercial art career to her made-up personal history, seeking a more genuine connection to herself and the world. This is clear in her rejection of her former life and her embrace of a primal existence, as seen when she discards her clothes and language to reconnect with her raw, instinctual nature.
“I was not an animal, not a goddess, I was a woman. I was not a tree, I was a woman. I was not a killer. I was a woman.”
The novel explores the conflict between human civilization and the natural world, suggesting that modern society has separated individuals from their basic, primal selves. The remote Quebec wilderness is both a physical setting and a metaphor for the narrator's inner world. As she goes deeper into the wild, she sheds the constraints of civilization, embracing an animalistic existence to find a deeper connection to the earth. This theme is powerfully shown by her father's late-life change, his strange drawings, and her own descent into a feral state, where she experiences visions and tries to communicate with nature on its own terms.
“The lake was a mirror, but it was not reflecting me. It reflected nothing. It was not a mirror.”
The story focuses on the impact of past trauma, especially the narrator's suppressed memory of an abortion, which she has reframed as a stillbirth. This act of repression has fragmented her identity and caused her emotional numbness. The island's isolation and the search for her father bring these buried memories to the surface, leading to a mental breakdown and eventual confrontation with her past. The repeated image of drowned figures and underwater visions directly symbolizes this hidden trauma, showing how unaddressed pain can distort perception and prevent true self-understanding.
“The word you can't say. The word you can't hear. The word that will kill you.”
Atwood examines societal expectations for women, especially concerning femininity and motherhood, and the oppressive nature of patriarchy. The narrator's abortion and her subsequent emotional emptiness are central to this theme, representing a woman's struggle with choice and the deep impact of denying her own body. The relationships between David and Anna, and the narrator and Joe, expose the power dynamics and subtle aggressions within heterosexual partnerships. The narrator's eventual embrace of a primal, feminine wildness can be seen as a rejection of patriarchal norms and a reclaiming of an authentic, instinctual female power, separate from traditional roles of wife or mother.
“I used to think that when I got older, I would be able to make myself up, like a character in a book. But I'm just me.”
The novel explores how human language fails to convey true meaning or create real connection. The narrator often feels alienated by her companions' superficial conversations and struggles to express her own internal experiences. Her commercial art, which creates illusions, further emphasizes this theme. As she descends into her primal state, she gradually abandons language entirely, seeking a more basic, non-verbal form of communication with the natural world. This suggests that authentic understanding might lie beyond words, in intuition, instinct, and a direct engagement with existence.
“Words were no protection; they were only a disguise. I had to learn to live without them.”
The story is told through the subjective, often distorted perspective of the protagonist.
The unnamed narrator recounts the events through her highly subjective and increasingly fragmented lens. Her unreliability stems from her repressed trauma (the abortion) and her emotional detachment, which leads her to misremember or fabricate details about her past. As she descends into a more primal state, her perceptions blur the lines between reality and hallucination, making the reader question the veracity of her experiences. This device immerses the reader in her psychological journey, creating suspense and challenging conventional notions of truth.
Water represents the subconscious, memory, and the boundary between life and death.
Water, particularly the lake, is a pervasive symbol throughout the novel. It represents the narrator's subconscious mind, where repressed memories and traumas (like the abortion) are submerged. Her father's cryptic drawings of drowned figures and her own underwater visions directly link water to death, rebirth, and the confrontation of her past. The act of diving into the lake is a metaphorical descent into her inner self, seeking to surface the hidden truths. It also acts as a boundary between the civilized world and the primal, untamed wilderness.
The remote island environment reflects and amplifies the narrator's internal state.
The isolated Quebec wilderness is more than just a setting; it functions as a psychological mirror for the narrator's internal landscape. As she becomes increasingly detached from her companions and society, the wildness of the island amplifies her own sense of alienation and her desire to shed her civilized self. The untamed nature provides a space for her to explore her primal instincts and confront her fragmented identity. The natural world becomes a catalyst for her transformation, allowing her to 'surface' her true self from beneath layers of societal conditioning.
The father's artwork serves as clues and foreshadowing for the narrator's journey.
The father's strange, childlike drawings found in the cabin and etched underwater are crucial plot devices. Initially unsettling, they act as a breadcrumb trail, guiding the narrator's investigation into his disappearance and, by extension, into her own psyche. These images, depicting figures with animalistic features or submerged in water, foreshadow the narrator's own descent into a primal state and her confrontation with her repressed memories. They suggest a shift in the father's own understanding of reality, influencing the narrator's perception of him and her own path.
Animals and animalistic behavior reflect primal instincts and the shedding of humanity.
Animal imagery is used extensively to highlight the narrator's gradual shedding of her human identity and her embrace of a more primal existence. From the fish-headed figures in her father's drawings to her own observations of wildlife and her eventual adoption of animalistic behaviors (eating raw, moving on all fours, losing language), animals symbolize instinct, raw nature, and a connection to a pre-human state. This imagery underscores the theme of man's alienation from nature and the narrator's attempt to bridge that gap, finding authenticity in the non-human world.
“I can't believe I'm on this road again, twisting along past the lake where the fish are dying, the trees are dying, the animals are dying. I can't believe I'm going back to the place where I was born, the place I've been trying to forget.”
— The narrator's initial thoughts as she travels back to her childhood home in rural Quebec.
“The trouble is, I can't remember. I'm not sure how much of this I made up.”
— Reflecting on her fragmented memories of her father and her past.
“To be a victim is to have a destiny, but to be a survivor is to have a story.”
— A general reflection on the nature of experience and narrative.
“We are the animals that make stories, and we tell them to each other, and we live inside them.”
— A broader philosophical statement about human nature and storytelling.
“This above all, to refuse to be a victim. Unless I can do that I can do nothing.”
— The narrator's growing determination to reclaim agency in her life.
“The animals have their own kind of language, but it's not made of words.”
— Observing the natural world and considering non-human communication.
“I look at myself in the mirror and I'm not there. I'm just a space.”
— Experiencing a profound sense of dissociation and loss of self.
“The forest is like a language I don't know yet.”
— Feeling disconnected from nature and a deeper understanding of her surroundings.
“If I could see myself, I would know what I am.”
— Yearning for self-knowledge and an external validation of her existence.
“I feel as if I'm being pulled apart, as if I'm a puppet and someone else is pulling the strings.”
— Struggling with a sense of external control and lack of autonomy.
“The animals have a right to live. They have a right to their own shapes, their own skins.”
— A growing awareness of the rights and inherent value of nature.
“I am not a tree, I am not a stone, but I am not human either.”
— During her descent into a more primal, non-human state.
“It was not a question of choosing, but of being chosen.”
— Reflecting on the forces that have shaped her life and decisions.
“I can walk out of here. I can go anywhere. I can be free.”
— The narrator's final realization and assertion of her newfound freedom and agency.
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Margaret Eleanor Atwood is a Canadian poet, novelist, literary critic, essayist, teacher, environmental activist, and inventor. Since 1961, she has published eighteen books of poetry, eighteen novels, eleven books of non-fiction, nine collections of short fiction, eight children's books, two graphic novels, and a number of small press editions of both poetry and fiction. Atwood has won numerous awards and honors for her writing, including two Booker Prizes, the Arthur C. Clarke Award, the Governor General's Award, the Franz Kafka Prize, Princess of Asturias Awards, and the National Book Critics and PEN Center USA Lifetime Achievement Awards. A number of her works have been adapted for film and television.
